


Cops and Robbers

by phandomsub



Series: Kinkshame [3]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Phil Lester, Dress Up, Handcuffs, Light Bondage, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Object Insertion, Smut, Top Dan Howell, Wordcount: 5.000-10.000, objectophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-31 13:38:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13976265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phandomsub/pseuds/phandomsub
Summary: Phil has always been open with Dan about his kinks — except for one.





	Cops and Robbers

**Author's Note:**

> This fic isn’t crack, but it’s also not to be taken too seriously. Based off this (very nsfw) video. Set in 2014 because it felt right. Thanks as always to @darlingimwhipped for the read-through.

‘I don’t know,’ Phil says, eyeing himself critically in Dan’s full-length mirror. He undoes one of the top buttons on his loose black-and-white striped shirt, then immediately does it back up. ‘It doesn’t look robber-y enough.’

‘Wear the mask, then?’ Dan suggests from across the room, where he’s scouring through one of his messy clothing draws. He’s still only half-dressed, the hem of his decorated blue polo resting just below the band of his revealing cheeky-briefs, soft crescent curves of his cute butt shifting as he searches for the outfits’ bottom half. The underwear aren’t exactly crucial to his costume – Dan just likes to wear them sometimes, and Phil definitely isn’t one to complain.

‘It doesn’t fit my giant head,’ he says, glancing at the cheap plastic mask tossed atop the old piano. ‘It feels like it’s going to push my eyeballs right out the back of my skull.’

‘Well that was unnecessarily graphic,’ Dan grimaces, nose wrinkling as he steps into a pair of tiny black shorts. His hips do a little side-to-side wiggle to get them up his long legs and over his thighs; once fastened, they barely cover any more ass than his undies had. ‘Try tucking the top in. And undo a few more buttons.’

Phil sighs, doing as Dan advises while his boyfriend meanders around the room, adding props to complete his costume. How Dan got the cooler concept, Phil doesn’t know, let alone how he managed to talk him into doing _sexy_ outfits for their friends’ “Cops and Robbers” party. _It’ll be funny_ , Dan had said, accidentally nudging Phil so hard he’d almost dropped the invitation. In theory, Dan was right – it is a pretty amusing concept, considering it certainly isn’t something anyone would expect from the two socially-awkward boys – the only issue being that Dan looks downright edible in his skimpy costume, while Phil, well…sexy isn’t really his _thing_.

‘I just look like a guy in a shirt and jeans,’ he says, tugging at the now-tucked top and popping a couple of extra buttons per Dan’s request. ‘Who needs to shave their chest.’

‘Stop stressing out, you look fine,’ Dan insists. He wanders over to stand beside Phil, who looks at him via the mirror; the way the police hat and handcuffs pull together Dan’s outfit perfectly does nothing to make him feel better. ‘I bet half the people going won’t even try, anyway.’

‘They’re the _worst_ kind of people,’ Phil tells him, like he hasn’t expressed this opinion a million times before.

‘Exactly,’ Dan agrees, patting his shoulder before crossing back over to the bed. ‘Plus, we’ve still got that toy gun from the Super Amazing Project you can use, so I’m sure Kate won’t mind that you’re missing a mask.’

That helps. At least Phil knows he tried, and besides, even if he _did_ have a mask that fit, it would be near-on futile to wear it, since all eyes are going to be stuck on Dan anyway. Which, for the record, he’s totally fine with – attention is even less his thing than sexy, and the same goes for jealousy. With a quick smoothing of his skin-tight jeans and a nod, Phil turns around to look at Dan without the aid of reflection, who’s returned to rummaging through his draws.

‘Alright,’ he says, smiling. ‘I’m ready.’

‘Okay, just a second.’ Dan pulls out a handful of miscellaneous junk and tosses it to the floor. ‘Have you seen my stick thing?’

The side of Phil’s mouth quirks, along with his eyebrow.

‘Stick thing?’

‘Yeah, you know,’ Dan says, making a vague up-and-down motion with his hand, ‘my _stick thing_.’

‘Last I saw, it was in my mouth,’ Phil cracks with a grin.

‘Oh, shut up, you perv,’ Dan scowls as he gets on his knees to look under the bed. ‘That fucking – what’s it called – my… _baton!_ There it is.’

Phil freezes.

‘W-What?’

‘I found it on eBay, didn’t I show you?’ Dan says, pulling the long, black club from under his bed. Phil’s blood runs cold. ‘Didn’t think they were legal to just have, to be honest. It’s pretty solid. Could do some damage.’

Dan clambers back to his feet, metal handcuffs clanking together where they’re hooked, unfastened, on his belt loop. The police baton swings from his right hand. Phil wants to take a step back, but he can barely even manage to breathe right; his wide eyes stay locked on the rubber stick, roaming from its T-style handle to the barely-tapered tip, and he can already feel his body reacting in a way he knows it shouldn’t.

‘Okay, everything else is downstairs,’ Dan says. ‘Let’s go.’

As he passes Phil on his way the door, Dan playfully whacks him on the ass with the baton – the strangled noise that tears from Phil’s throat sounds more like the cry of a wounded animal.

‘Shit,’ Dan says, face etched with worry as he spins back around. ‘Did I hurt you? I didn’t mean to hit you hard–’

‘No,’ Phil chokes out. It’s hard to think with his heart pounding so loudly in his ears. He swallows thickly, doing his best to act normal as his pupils double in size. ‘You didn’t.’

‘Then what’s wrong?’ Dan asks, stepping closer. Phil warily eyes his occupied hand. ‘You look pale, are you feeling okay?’

‘S’cause there’s no blood left in my head,’ he laughs weakly.

For a moment, Dan looks concerned and more than a little confused. Then, the realisation dawns on his face in the form of a smirk, his mischievous brown eyes skimming down Phil’s front until they settle on the obvious bulge in his pants. He shakes his head, giggling.

‘You horny fucker,’ he teases, head tipping forward to look up through his lashes, police hat tilting off-centre. ‘You really like me dressed up that much, huh?’

‘No,’ Phil says, and Dan’s flirtatious smile sinks into a sulk faster than he can blink. ‘I mean, shit, sorry, you look great, but that’s not…’

‘Then what?’ Dan asks, back to confused. ‘What happened in the last thirty seconds that warrants your dick trying to spear itself out of your jeans?’

Phil’s mouth opens to answer, purely on instinct since keeping things from Dan has never been on the cards, but he stops himself before the words can leave his lips. It’s not that he doesn’t trust his boyfriend – hell, with the weird kinks Dan’s confessed to him, he has no right not to – but how does he explain _this_ when even Phil himself doesn’t fully understand it?

Phil is sexually attracted to batons…and when It’s said like that, he sounds fucking insane. Maybe he is, honestly, because he can’t think of any other reason why a fully-functioning, intelligent, well-adjusted human being would get so unbearably aroused the moment they’re in the presence of one.

He had first discovered his strange philia at the age of fourteen, when a police officer had visited his school to talk about “staying straight” with the law. In a classroom packed with students, Phil had become overwhelmed with a lust beyond anything he’d ever felt, and that was saying a lot, considering the teenage hormones raging inside him. At first, he’d thought he just wanted to fuck the officer, but that didn’t make much sense – not that there was anything wrong with her, apart from the fact that she was a _her_ and Phil had been positive of his homosexuality since first seeing a vagina in his dad’s hidden porn mag. Quickly, though, he realised it wasn’t the woman he felt such a strong longing for, but the truncheon that hung from her belt.

Back when kinky sex was just a pipe dream, it had been easy enough for Phil to convince himself that it was all merely a derision of masochism and had nothing to do with the baton itself. That changed when he entered university, however, where he met a boy named Tom who kept a paddle under his bed, and Phil soon learnt that he had absolutely no interest in being flogged, regardless of what it was with. It was simply the idea of the cool rubber _touching_ him that got him so strung out. He avoided giving it any deeper thought after that realisation and, thankfully for him, it wasn’t something that came up very often. It’s not exactly a common occurrence for Phil to find himself in the same room as one. That’s how he’s managed to get so far along in his relationship with Dan without the other boy suspecting anything strange – until now, of course.

‘I’m…’ Phil starts, then decides it’s far too embarrassing. Some of the blood returns to his cheeks as an abashed blush. ‘It’s nothing.’

As quick as his heavy, gangly legs allow, Phil makes a break for the hallway, but it isn’t fast enough. Something bites at his thin wrist, halting him. Not Dan’s soft fingers, like he expects – something hard and cold, that scrapes and grinds and tightens. Looking down, Phil finds he’s been cuffed, and Dan’s got a tight hold on the adjoining chain.

‘Not so fast, Lester,’ he taunts jovially. Despite his foiled attempt to bail, Phil is still impressed by Dan’s ability to capture him one-handed. ‘Where do you think you’re going?’

‘We’ve got to go,’ Phil squeaks, but God knows how he’s going to make it through the party with that thing in Dan’s hands. Maybe he can distract him into leaving it in the cab. ‘We’re going to be late otherwise.’

‘As if anyone is expecting us on time,’ Dan scoffs. ‘Besides,’ he adds, snaking himself around Phil, as fluid as smoke, until their chests are as close as possible without touching, ‘we should probably sort out your little problem before we go. And when I say little, I’m being facetious.’

Phil’s breathing shallows. He can’t see the baton with Dan taking up his space like this, but he knows it’s there, somewhere, and that’s almost worse. A tremor torments his aching body at the possibility of it brushing against any part of him at any moment.

‘If it’s not me, and it’s not the costume, then what is it?’ Dan ponders, tugging gently at the chain and, thus, Phil’s wrist. ‘Come on, Philly. Tell me, so I can make you feel good.’

‘I can’t,’ Phil whines, ears burning hot with humiliation. ‘It’s too embarrassing.’

‘Really?’ Dan snorts. ‘And your thing for Pokémon onesies wasn’t?’

‘This is worse!’

‘Uh-huh,’ he mumbles. ‘Well I guess I’ll just have to tease you until you tell me.’

It’s clear that Dan is totally clueless to the weight of his actions as he moves the baton between Phil’s parted legs. Phil’s also oblivious as to what’s about to happen, until suddenly the weapon is grazing up his inner-thigh and his brain shuts down.

‘Oh, _God_ ,’ he moans, hips twitching so forcefully they bump against Dan’s – and it hadn’t even brushed his throbbing cock.

Stunned, Dan looks from Phil, to the baton, and back up.

‘This?’ he asks.

‘Yeah,’ Phil answers, small and ashamed.

‘Oh?’ Dan slides it out from between them, careful to avoid touching Phil. ‘Do you want me to…hurt you with it?’

He smacks it, light but firm, against Phil’s outer-thigh. Phil shakes his head no, yet whimpers nonetheless.

‘No? You just like being touched with it?’

Phil nods.

‘You like how it feels against you?’

The blunt tip rises to slip between the opening of his low-buttoned shirt; it drags across pale skin and catches on scarce dark hair. Phil’s knees threaten to buckle.

‘ _Dan_ ,’ he gasps.

‘Look how gone for it you are already,’ Dan gushes in wonder. He drifts forwards, lips hovering by Phil’s ear. ‘I wonder what you’d be like with it inside you.’

‘Fuck,’ Phil moans, unconsciously pulling back his cuffed wrist to yank Dan closer, now flush against his overheating body. ‘Please.’

‘Kinky boy,’ Dan smirks against Phil’s cheek, and then he’s manhandling him onto the bed.

Spun around and let go, Phil topples backwards and lands on the mattress with a soft huff. He catches himself halfway to horizontal and scrambles to sit up, but the tip of the baton stops him – it presses hard against his chest, suspending him in place. Leaning back on his elbows for support, Phil stares at where the rubber touches him, half expecting to see a hole burning into his flesh with the sensual heat it brings. His entire body breaks out in a euphoric sweat. Dan holds it there, steadfast, his face glowing with dominance from above, before finally lowering it. Phil exhales a shaky breath.

‘Take off your shirt,’ Dan commands, tearing off his hat and tossing it aside.

Phil’s hands are moving before his brain can even fully comprehend the order; they scurry to the fastened buttons of his shirt, popping them hurriedly and tugging the tucked material from his pants as they go. With a sliver of flushed skin on show, his fingers jump to his shirt cuffs and unbutton those too, before peeling the dampened sleeves over his hands. Cotton catches on metal as he forces the open handcuff through, but Phil has never cared less about tearing something.

‘Is that better?’ Dan soothes as he brings the baton back to Phil’s bare chest. It presses softer this time, but has him shivering just as violently as it caresses over broad shoulders and sharp collarbones and a barely-there tummy. ‘You like that?’

‘Ah, fuck,’ Phil whimpers, chest pressing forward as it clips one of his hard, sensitive nipples. ‘Yes.’

‘God, you’re so into this,’ Dan says, astounded. ‘I bet you’d let me do anything to you with it, wouldn’t you, darling? Would do anything I told you to, as long as I touch you with it.’

‘ _Yes_ ,’ Phil groans, head tipping back as the baton slides up the front of his long neck, black hair falling into hooded eyes.

‘Good,’ Dan says. ‘Because I want to watch you work it like a cock.’

The low sound that rumbles in Phil’s throat vibrates the weapon against his Adam’s apple. Obediently, he reaches for it, ready to do anything Dan demands – only to have it smack his hand away.

‘Nuh-uh,’ Dan scolds, tossing the heavy stick to the floor with a thud, and Phil wants to cry from the loss of contact. ‘I never said you could use your hands.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Phil says, although he’s too deliriously turned on to fully grasp what he’s apologising for.

‘No warnings,’ Dan says, climbing onto the bed and straddling Phil with a knee on either side of his thighs. Big, soft hands find each of Phil’s wrists and drag them behind his perspiring back; they feed his bare wrist into the open handcuff and, with a click, snap it shut. Instinctively, Phil tugs at them, even though he already knows what the outcome will be – his hands are secured tight, idle and useless.

‘There,’ Dan says, satisfied, shuffling back off the bed and dipping down to retrieve the baton. ‘Now, are you going to behave and only do as I tell you?’

‘Yes,’ Phil says, breathless. He squirms in anticipation, shoulders pulling back to relieve the pressure on his wrists. ‘I promise.’

‘And you know your safeword?’ Dan asks, pressing the club flat against his thigh. Phil drags in a needy breath and his legs spread wantonly.

‘Mhm,’ he nods, quick and eager.

‘Remind me.’

‘Wattpad.’

‘Good boy,’ Dan praises, laughing lightly. He teases at Phil’s thighs a little more, in a way that makes his cock leak in the confines of his clothes, before the tip of the baton trails back up his chest; it travels tauntingly slow, up his neck, over his chin, until it’s finally pressing to thin lips. ‘Now, suck for me, baby.’

Phil’s lips part fervently, allowing the cool rubber to slip just-so into the warmth of his mouth. He moans, loud and unabashed, as his pink tongue slides out to trace across the tip. An onslaught of pleasure unlike anything he’s felt before rushes his body – it’s dirty and new and so, so good. It’s like his first experience sucking cock, but on amphetamines. Useless limbs tremble as Phil takes it in further, then clamps shut around it and moans again, muffled and whorish.

‘Fuck, Phil,’ Dan says, nudging the baton ever so softly to slide it deeper into his boyfriends’ mouth. Phil’s head sinks down as far as his throat will allow, then drags back up, leaving a wet trail of saliva. ‘That’s so fucking hot. Look at me?’

Phil isn’t sure when he closed his eyes entirely, but everything is so much better with them open – through a delirious haze, he can see the utter adoration on Dan’s face, can see where the endless black glides in and out of his mouth. He takes in more until he chokes, moans, then does it again.

 ‘So filthy,’ Dan gushes, free hand making its way down to the straining bulge in his too-tight shorts. Long fingers flick the button and tug down the zip, pushing at denim to ease the pressure on his hard cock.

It’s harder to see Dan through the sheen of reflex tears, but Phil is damned if he doesn’t try. Big, blue eyes look up with devotion as he continues to blow the baton, tongue swirling and lips drooling; his throat gags in the most desperate, erotic way as he attempts to take it deeper.

‘Do you think you could come just from this?’ Dan asks huskily, gradually working his shorts down over his hips with one hand.

Phil fights through the elation to mentally focus on his cock – on the way it twitches and pulses in his underwear. With a needy whine, he nods.

‘Fucking hell,’ Dan says, the waistband of his shorts slipping past the thickest section of his legs and dropping to the floor. He sounds so fucking exhilarated by this that Phil’s taken entirely off-guard when the baton is dragged from his mouth with an obnoxiously slick pop. He whimpers pathetically, trying to follow it, a string of saliva stretching from his lips. ‘That’s so good, baby. But I want to see you take it, want to see you come on it.’

‘Dan, please,’ Phil rasps, voice fucked from taking the thick rubber so deep. His throat burns with a cry as the tip returns to his nipple, now wet with his own spit. ‘Need to – need it.’

‘Shh, darling,’ Dan hushes, soothing Phil’s sob of loss with a pet of his soft, black hair as the baton is moved to the bedsheets. ‘You will. Be patient.’

Phil goes easy when Dan lays him back on the bed – it’s undeniably uncomfortable to lean on his cuffed wrists like this, the smooth metal digging into his back, but it’s worth the relief when nimble fingers work open the front of his jeans. Tossing his head to the side, Phil lifts his hips without command and, in seconds, Dan’s tugging his pants down long, slim legs and tossing them aside.

‘Holy shit, look how wet you are,’ Dan says, caressing the leg of Phil’s underwear, strategically avoiding his swollen cock. The front of Phil’s black boxer-briefs are soaked through with pre-come. ‘You’re lucky this is so damn hot, or I would be offended.’

‘So hard. Hurts,’ Phil groans, writhing against the checkered sheets as Dan’s hands crawl up his thighs to the band of his underwear. ‘Please touch me, just a bit.’

‘You would blow your load on impact,’ Dan giggles, working off the wet material. ‘And neither of us want that.’

He’s right, but Phil still whines in disappointment as his thick, full cock springs from the briefs. It settles against his lower stomach, the wet head barely even brushing pale skin, yet he’s so worked up it still conjures a deep moan from his chest. His hips buck, searching for more. Dan steadies them.

‘Keep still and don’t complain,’ he orders. ‘Or I’ll make you watch me fuck myself with it, and you’ll get nothing.’

Phil’s body stills immediately, dull teeth biting at his tongue in an attempt to keep himself quiet. Hazy eyes drape closed in search of self-control as Dan sheds his own underwear, and Phil just listens. Footsteps round the opposite side of the bed to one of Dan’s bedside tables, where he digs through the top draw and quickly returns with a bottle of lube – possibly the only thing easy to find in his horrifically disorganised room.

‘Going to open you up now. Get you nice and slick,’ Dan says, popping the lid with one hand as the other gently trails along Phil’s thigh. ‘Lift your legs for me, baby.’

Phil obeys willingly, pulling them up from where they’re hanging over the end of the bed. Bruised knees bend while rough heels find purchase on the edge of the mattress, and ankles spread out wider with the soft urge of Dan’s fingers, until Phil is as open as his muscles will allow. Dan makes a familiar breathy sound – it’s the same each time he has his boyfriend spread out on display like this.

‘So pretty,’ Dan sighs, skimming the skin of Phil’s perineum. ‘Look at me.’

Phil’s head rolls back before his eyes peel open, and he’s immediately greeted by the wonderful sight of Dan stood above him, gorgeous and domineering, his own hard cock jutting from between his legs.

‘Love this part,’ he says, squeezing the clear lube out over three large fingers. The bottle joins the baton on the bed and Phil has to keep from bucking at the slick sound of liquid being spread over skin. ‘Love seeing how well you can take things.’

Wet fingers play between Phil’s legs, sliding down between parted cheeks and over his hole, before one sinks in without further warning.

‘ _Oh_ ,’ Phil cries, hips tilting up, letting it slide in deeper, easier.

‘My fingers, my cock, our toys,’ Dan says, pushing and dragging until Phil’s muscles give way, then sinks back in with two and does it again. Phil gasps, twitching. ‘You take them all so fucking well.’

‘God,’ Phil chokes, cock bobbing and leaking as those fingers curl and rub, just once, before they begin to scissor and stretch. ‘More.’

‘Always so willing to get fucked, one way or another,’ Dan says, coiling his free hand around one of Phil’s calves and lifting it up. He hooks the bend of Phil’s knee into the fit of his elbow, keeping his upper-leg angled straight up, and steps in as close as possible, shins flush against the frame of the bed. Slipping in a third finger, Dan angles his own hips and grinds his hot, heavy cock against the back of Phil’s milky thigh.

‘Dan, please,’ Phil begs, shaking with withdrawals from black rubber. His arrested fingers tangle in the sheets beneath him the best they can. ‘Want more. I can take it. Please.’

‘Are you sure?’ Dan asks, but his tone is more teasing than concerned. ‘That thing is thicker than my fingers. Maybe even thicker than my cock. Are you sure you can take it already?’

‘Yes, fuck, _please_ ,’ Phil cries, voice shrill and frantic. He squirms, hips leaving the bed, wetness trickling between his cheeks and weeping against his leg. Dan groans lowly at the friction, fingers jerking harder into Phil’s tight ass, making him hiccup with pleasure.

‘I guess there’s one sure way to check,’ Dan pants lightly, slippery fingers sliding from inside Phil to grip at his other leg instead. He hoists it up, dragging Phil’s ass down to the very edge of the mattress – it tilts upwards, open and wet, as Dan balances one trembling calf over his shoulder and takes hold of his own throbbing cock.

Phil’s entire body shudders as the uncut head of Dan’s cock eases into his hole. With a dip of his hips, he sinks in.

‘Ah, shit,’ Dan gasps, grinding as he bottoms out inside Phil. ‘So fucking easy.’

‘Dan,’ Phil squeaks, stomach muscles flexing, cock flushed a dark, angry purple. ‘ _Dan_.’

‘Okay,’ Dan breathes with a curt nod, knowing what the tightness of Phil’s voice means. He drags his cock out and Phil’s desperation only increases with the feeling of emptiness. ‘On your front, gorgeous.’

Following Dan’s command is only difficult until those well-mapped hands find his shoulders, helping him turn over and crawl further up the dishevelled bed. With his face pressed into the most calming scent he knows, Phil pushes up onto his knees, legs open and ass in the air. Usually, he feels so exposed like this, everything presented for the taking; that vulnerability should be increased tenfold with the loss of his hands, and perhaps it is, but he’s too fucking horny to care. Besides, it’s only Dan – despite Phil’s own sexual hang-ups, he would trust the boy with his life.

‘Fuck, you look incredible,’ Dan praises, squeezing at his ass-cheeks. Phil whimpers, pressing back into the dry heat, which is quickly joined by a wet warmth; his poor pulsing cock leaks onto the sheets as Dan bends to lick over his stretched hole. Just one slow, long stripe to drive him absolutely crazy, as if he wasn’t there already. ‘You good?’

‘ _Uh_ ,’ is all Phil can really manage, wrists tugging and back arching.

There’s a moment where Phil struggles to hear past his pounding heart and heavy breathing – he catches the sound of a lid and the squeeze of a bottle, and then, suddenly, the slick end of the baton is grazing against his hole. Although he was expecting it, the noise he makes suggests otherwise.

‘Shh,’ Dan hushes, giggling a little at the dramatic reaction. ‘Relax.’

The tip teases a little, testing the resistance of Phil’s body. Then, it’s breaching inside him. It’s hard and thick and invasive, and Phil’s eyes roll back into his head.

‘Oh, _fuck_ ,’ he moans. ‘Oh my fucking – _ah_.’

‘That good?’ Dan asks smugly.

‘ _Uhh_ ,’ Phil groans. ‘Deeper, deeper.’

Losing whatever control he still had, Phil fucks himself back on the baton. Dan tries to hold it still, yet Phil still feels another inch slide inside him, stretching him out and filling him up so fucking well.

‘Careful,’ Dan warns, feeding him a little more once he’s sure it’s okay.

Phil struggles for breath as it slides out and screams in earnest when it pushes back in, rubbing against his prostate as it sinks a little deeper. It’s fucking incredible, beyond anything he’s felt before – it sends bolts of heavenly lightning through his entire being and tears a dry sob from his throat when it disappears completely.

‘Not that I don’t love your noises,’ Dan says softly, resting a palm on Phil’s lower back. ‘I do. But you need to be quieter, baby, or the whole damn complex is going to know.’

‘I – I can’t,’ Phil cries, rubbing his face in the doona and fucking back on nothing. ‘I need – Dan – I don’t–’

‘Fuck, okay.’

The baton returns to the bed as Dan bends to pick something up, before crawling on after it – he leans over Phil, pulling up his head by a fistful of dark hair, and shoves something into his lax mouth. When the realisation hits that it’s Dan’s damp, used underwear that’s gagging him, Phil moans, head dropping back down and eyes falling shut.

‘Much better,’ Dan notes at the muffled noise. Solid, slick rubber slides back inside and Phil spasms. ‘Click twice if you need me to stop, okay? Otherwise, scream all you want.’

And Phil does – or, at least he thinks he does. It’s hard to differentiate between what’s going on in his head and what’s actually happening when he’s suspended in such mind-numbing pleasure. All he knows for sure is that the end of the baton is moving inside him, fucking into him, and he’s pretty sure he’s fucking back on it, too. His shoulders stretch and wrists yank and legs seize, but nothing hurts. It just feels so _fucking good._

Snippets of sentences float up from Earth to his home on cloud nine – things like _dirty boy_ and _take it_ and _so perfect._ The motion is slow and careful, but it doesn’t matter. That lovely pool of heat bubbles in his gut regardless, and Phil’s never been so fucking ready to come. Never wanted to fall apart so completely.

‘Dan,’ he tries to say, but it comes out a mumbled mess. Even so, Dan seems to get the point.

‘Come on it, baby,’ he urges, angling the baton inside him just right. ‘I don’t need to touch you. You can do it.’

Nails dig into palms deep enough to draw blood and Phil doesn’t even notice. He’s moaning, maybe, or perhaps he’s sobbing as his orgasm builds and builds and finally breaks; the floodgates open and he crumbles, body shaking apart as he comes hot and hard. Hips bucking and cock pulsing, he rides it out, until the very last dregs of bliss melt away and he fucking collapses.

Dan eases out the baton as Phil’s knees give. They slide down, stretching out straight, likely in a gradual decline but Phil swears he hits the mattress like a tonne of bricks. He’s still trembling with the aftershock and it almost hurts to have his sensitive cock pressed against the wet spot; not enough for him to actually move, though. Instead, he lays there, breathing deep, basking in the euphoria as long as possible, before the exhaustion sets in.

‘Jesus Christ,’ Dan says, climbing on top of Phil, hands empty. He peppers kisses to the back of Phil’s neck, hard cock pressing to his thigh. ‘So hot, Phil, so sexy. You’re so _fucking_ sexy. I want – can I touch myself? Looking at you, I mean. Is that creepy? You just look so fucking good.’

Phil tries to answer, but the spit-soaked knickers still stuffed in his mouth hinder his speech. Hastily, Dan tugs them out.

‘Sorry?’

‘Use me,’ Phil says, voice almost gone entirely now.

‘What?’

Relaxed legs spread open again.

‘Use me,’ he repeats.

‘You sure?’ Dan asks, shuffling up onto his knees to run a hand over Phil’s abused ass. ‘You’re not too sore?’

‘S’fine,’ he mumbles, too tired for a stronger conviction.

‘Thank you,’ Dan says, planting a kiss on Phil’s exposed cheek before shifting to line himself up.

Phil grunts as Dan slides in. It feels so different to have a cock inside him now – so much smaller and softer and warmer. It may not make him teeter on the edge of delusion like the baton had, but as Dan begins to fuck him, it certainly harbours something the weapon hadn’t. Something familiar, something safe. Something he could never give up.

‘Oh, Phil,’ Dan sighs, pace quickening. ‘I love you.’

‘Mm,’ Phil hums, sweet pleasure spiking his energy levels. ‘Even despite my weird kinks?’

‘ _Because_ of your weird kinks.’

‘You love me because I’m turned on by an inanimate object?’

‘No,’ Dan says. He grinds harder and they both sigh. ‘I love you because you’re fucking weird.’

‘Hey,’ Phil says. ‘That’s – _ah_ – coming from the guy who…argues with himself.’

‘I never…never said _I_ wasn’t.’

‘You’re – _uh_ – just as bad as me.’

‘Uh-huh. That’s why we’re… _ah_ , I’m gonna come.’

‘Me too.’

‘Shit.’

Phil comes dry, his cock not even half-hard. It’s weak – just a nice little rush that makes his legs tingle and his eyelashes flutter. There’s no way in hell his body could handle more right now, but he’s mostly glad about that. This way, he can listen to the lovely little noises Dan makes, and feel the way his dick pulses inside him as he pumps Phil full of come.

‘God,’ Dan moans, collapsing on top of him. It hurts Phil’s aching wrists, but he’s pretty sure he could fall asleep like this regardless. ‘That was…good, if not strange and unexpected. Why didn’t you tell me about it earlier?’

‘Need to keep some things a mystery,’ Phil mumbles. ‘Or you’ll get bored.’

‘Yeah, right,’ Dan snorts. ‘More like you’ll leave me for some strapping young cop.’

‘Unlikely. He couldn’t handle my weirdness.’

‘I can, though,’ Dan says, kissing the back of Phil’s head. ‘You don’t have to hide it from me, you know.’

‘I was embarrassed,’ Phil says on a yawn.

‘Don’t be. What did I tell you back when we first met?’

‘That you’re down to try anything,’ Phil recalls. ‘Except scat.’

‘Exactly,’ Dan giggles, sitting up and ruffling Phil’s hair. ‘Now where’s your phone? I’m going to tell Kate you set the kitchen on fire, or something.’


End file.
